Homophobia
by Iluvbeyblade
Summary: Read this if you believe homophobia is wrong. Please do your part to end it. Flames welcome.
1. Chapter 1

This is an old, old idea of mine; put some faces to the Homophobia meme thing we see everywhere on people's profiles.

Updates will be weekly. I have ten prewritten and may ask for ideas for some of the remaining "prompts" as the weeks go by.

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**I am the girl kicked out of her home because I confided in my mother that I am a lesbian.**

I wrapped my arms round myself and shivered in the cold as I stood in front of my girlfriend's door, picking up the courage to knock. My lightly clenched fist hit the door twice, making two dull, timid thuds. Footsteps sounded almost instantly and the door swung open, revealing a rectangle of bright light and warmth.

"Mathilda? Maddy, hon? What's wrong?" I sucked in a deep breath and held it, squashing down the desperate urge to burst into tears, then shook my head stiffly and just stood there, head bowed, staring at the doorstep and trembling all over. Before I knew what was happening, I was pulled into a gentle embrace. "Talk to me, pixie."

Finally the tears burst through the dam, tearing at my throat in gulping, hiccupping cries. I leant helplessly against Mariam, wracked with uncontrollable sobs.

With my eyes screwed shut and my head whirling with the sound of my own sobs, I didn't see or hear Mariam slowly tugging me indoors until something banged against the back of my legs. "Sit down, Maddy."

Like a puppet, I obeyed, curling up to Mariam and burying my face in the crook of the older girl's neck. "What did she say?" Mariam's voice was sharper now, more insistent.

"She…" I broke off again, quivering with suppressed sobs.

"It's okay, Maddy." Mariam soothed.

"No, it isn't … it isn't and it'll never be … " I leaned my head backwards and kissed Mariam desperately. As I pulled away, I whispered into Mariam's ear, my eyes wide and bleak with dread;

"She kicked me out."

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Short, I know. Review?


	2. Chapter 2

Thank you very much to **OnlyNotReally**, **Annika Preminyer**, **StZen**, **kei-kanna-chan** and **hikari0205** for your reviews! I wasn't expecting as many!

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**I am the sister who holds her gay brother tight through the painful, tear-filled nights.**

I rolled over in bed, still virtually asleep as the door opened and my brother stumbled through, his white hair gleaming in the darkness.

"'ssup?" I mumbled, attempting to keep my eyes open for more than a few seconds and failing.

"Go back to sleep," he replied in a stiff whisper. Instantly, I was awake. Sitting up too quickly and ignoring the wave of vertigo, I glared at his back.

"What is it this time, you -" I broke off at the sight of the blood dripping onto the bed. "What happened?" He ignored me. "Tell me, you stubborn shit!" He shrugged and sat down, leaning forwards, both hands pressed to his face.

"I think they broke my fucking nose …" was his only comment, through tightly clenched teeth. I gritted her teeth against the urge to start screaming with rage - it wasn't him I was angry at.

"Lee?" He nodded. "Michael? Rick? Spencer? Bryan?" Four more nods.

My temper had reached the point where I was audibly panting with the effort of keeping myself under some vague semblance of control. "I'll make the bastards eat their fucking balls sperm by sperm-"

"Leave it, sis," came the muffled response. "I'll handle it, ok?"

"Oh, you're doing a _fine_ job, aren't you?" I snarled. Throwing off the bedcovers, I marched up to him and shook him none-too-lightly. His head snapped backwards, and he glared fiercely at me through the blood and the bruising. Suddenly, without much thought involved in the matter, my arms went around him and we were clinging together like the frightened street orphans we had been all those years ago, desperate not to lose each other.

"I can handle it." King muttered obstinately. I pretended not to see the tear creeping down his cheek.

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These are going to be slightly out of order if you compare them to the original, but that's because there are five that I have trouble thinking of ideas for so haven't written yet. Once it's all done and posted I'll reorganise them neatly.

Review?


	3. Chapter 3

Thank you to my **zekesmummy! **(you still remember when I first started talking about this?! mega glomp), **StZen, Annika Preminyer, Sa-kun** and **Mrs.MonkeyD.Hitachiinx3** for your reviews!

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**I am the man who died alone in the hospital because they would not let my partner of twenty-seven years into the room**.

I paced backwards and forwards, backwards and forwards, outside the room with the closed door.

Hiro was in there. And they wouldn't let me in. Why? Because I wasn't family, and I wasn't his _wife_.

"I might as well be," I muttered, barely even aware that I had spoken aloud. There was no one to hear me; nobody wanted to stray too close to the brooding, bitter man in the corner, talking to the walls to vent my frustration.

How long have we been together? How many people, over the years, have told us that we weren't right for each other, that it was a combination designed to bring only hatred and pain?

Yes, there had been arguments, terrible, blazing ones where I had struck Hiro and Hiro had struck me and we had spoken cold-blooded words in anger before retreating to fume in solitude. Of course there had been. We were two homosexuals with fiery tempers struggling to survive in a world where homophobia was still the common reaction to seeing two men share a kiss.

But there had also been wonderful times, mainly when we were alone together. As headstrong youngsters, those moments had been distinguished by the hot passion, by the clumsy gropes and moments of pure ecstasy to be had in a bare, cheerless room with clothes strewn across the floor - cleanliness came easily to us only when an impression needed to be made. As we had grown older, the passion had faded, the groping and ecstasy slowed into virtual non-existence. We had found a rightness in simply sitting next to each other, happy to co-exist in our perfect world until the next row blew it apart.

We have never said the words "I love you" to each other. Not in a different form, not even in our minds. Not even after one, memorable time where I broke his arm and he knocked me to the floor and kicked me in the head, not even when we had got back together after _that_ had those words been said.

Why did people place so much importance on words? Neither of us had been at all talkative. It was _actions_ that counted. And twenty-seven years of actions counted for something, didn't it?

Now, because of a simple operation gone wrong, all that could be taken away in a flash.

Go in with a kidney stone, come out in a coffin. A twisted, sarcastic laugh rasped from my dry throat as I momentarily slowed my pacing and ran my hands through hair that was beginning to lighten with hints of white.

A ruptured kidney, they had said. It'll be fine, they had said. Then it was kidney failure, dialysis. Internal bruising. Internal bleeding.

_"Sorry, sir, you can't see him. Family or spouses only." _

Didn't they have any idea how much this hurt? Being helpless out here, clueless. It was so rare Hiro showed pain, so rare he showed vulnerability of any kind, but as the ambulance screeched up, he had done both those things in quick succession.

Suddenly, the door opened. The nurse looked almost as if she wanted to retreat and close the door as I stared at her and demanded,

"What's happening?"

"I'm sorry, Brooklyn, sir, I truly am ... Hiro ... " she fell back on clichés, "he is not long for this world."

I had never fainted before. I'd often wondered curiously what it felt like, in fact. I didn't faint then, but the world spun and shrank around me until even the wall I was leaning against felt soft and unsteady.

"Let me in." I didn't recognise my own voice.

"I can't."

"Please?!"

"I'm sorry, you're not a relation, I can't let you in."

I begged, pleaded, threatened and raged, had to be restrained by six nurses and a security guard, but I was still outside the door when I heard;

_"Time of death; 3:30 am."_

I'm delighted people like what I'm doing here - almost wish I'd get some flames though, so I knew that people who didn't already understand the message were getting it, you know?

Anyway, review?

xIlbx

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	4. Chapter 4

Thank you to **Annika Preminyer**, **StZen**, **Mrs.MonkeyD.Hitachiinx3**, **steph300,** **OnlyNotReally** and **dark-phoenix-4eva** for your reviews, and to everyone who's read this and/or added it to their favourite or alert lists.

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**I am the foster child who wakes up with nightmares of being taken away from the two fathers who are the only loving family I have ever had. I wish they could adopt me.**

Tyson yawned and rolled over. Expecting a nice warm body to cuddle, he was disappointed by an empty space. Waking up a few degrees more, he blinked drowsily.

No Max. Throwing the covers off, he stood up and headed for the other bedroom. Sitting on their foster daughter's bed, talking to her softly, was Max. Rubbing sleep out of his eyes, he wandered over and stood rather awkwardly next to them. He had never been good with offering comfort in any shape or form - his philosophy was that if you pretended it hadn't happened, the person could be distracted into normality.

"You had another nightmare?" he ventured at last. The redheaded girl nodded sheepishly. At thirteen, she was old enough to feel horribly ashamed at making such a fuss over dreams. "Hey, it's ok, Izzy. We all have them."

"Him included." Max said dryly. "About socks, walking beyblades, and an empty fridge, that was the last one, wasn't it?" Isobel laughed as Tyson glared and coloured.

"Normal things seem scary in nightmares!" he protested. The other two laughed at him.

"I won't have to go, will I, Dad?" Isobel asked eventually. "I get a say in it, don't I?" Max nodded.

"Of course you do."

"Just not all the say."

"Tyson!" Tyson looked away, mumbling an incoherently apology.

"'s true, though."

"I _know_ it is, but there _is_ such a thing as tact, which you've _never_ learnt, ever-" Max's angry tirade was interrupted by Isobel flinging her arms around their waists in a clumsy hug.

"I love you," she whispered, the tears that had woken her brimming up again. "You're the best parents I've ever had. They're not taking me away just because one of you isn't female!"

Tyson and Max hugged her back, and exchanged a long, unhappy, hopeless look over her head.

Tomorrow, they would show her the letter. Tomorrow.

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Those of you who have noticed the slight addition to the summary - well, how else do I make sure the message is getting around?

xIlbx


	5. Chapter 5

Thank you to **alanacrystal**, **zekesmummy** (snuggles), **Mrs.MonkeyD.Hitachiinx3**, **Annika Preminyer**, **CLONE!!** (glomps), **FlamingIce94**, **OnlyNotReally**, **Beywriter**, **Turkey **(hugs) and **13Lulu's** for your reviews!  
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**I am one of the lucky ones, I guess. I survived the attack that left me in a coma for three weeks, and in another year I will probably be able to walk again.**

I rubbed my head. It hurt, again, and I was too tired to wheel myself into the kitchen and get a painkiller.

"You want a hand?" I smiled gratefully at the indirect reason for my pain, my boyfriend, Lee.

Swallowing the painkiller dry thanks to weeks of experience, I let my head fall back and rest on his abdomen.

"Bad day?"

"Yeah." I shut my eyes, and to my alarm, felt sleep wrap soft, enticing arms around me within seconds. My head gave an extra-painful throb, swiftly joined by my legs, which obviously didn't want to feel left out in any way. I swore weakly, and heard his sigh.

"Tired, Kev?" Such a measly little word, but we both knew an answer in the affirmative would mean far more. Reluctantly, I whispered,

"Very." Lee took hold of the handles of the chair and began to wheel me along.

Slowly, assisted a hell of a lot more than I would ever have accepted before all this by Miguel, I got into bed, moving my shattered legs carefully, unable to hold back grunts and winces of pain. Lying there with my eyes shut, I made one last attempt to stop the tide of sleep washing me away.

"Only two weeks left to go 'til the trial."

Lee laughed bitterly.

"Yeah," he agreed. "Let's hope they learn their lesson."

"Mm ..."  
_I doubt it_, I thought pessimistically. _I really, really doubt it_.

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I'm not as fond of this one. Don't know why. It's scrappy.It had different characters but then Sandra went and hit me round the head with a brainwave so it ALL CHANGED. (loves)

Review! Flames are fine too.

xIlbx


	6. Chapter 6

**Thanks to ****.Hitachiinx3****, Beywriter, StZen, Sa-kun, OnlyNotReally**, **Lamanth**, **13Lulu's**, **zekesbabe** and **Beeku** for your reviews!  
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**I am not one of the lucky ones. I killed myself just weeks before graduating high school. It was simply too much to bear.**

Tears, hot and blinding, ran down my face as I crouched in the toilet cubicle and vomited up my lunch. I wasn't bulimic, far from it, if it wasn't for a metabolism with the speed of an express train, I'd be fat, it was simply a reaction to ... well, to everything.

The unending months of torment, of insults, of slurs on my few relationships, and more recently, the vicious beatings with fists and feet and sticks and lumps of concrete.

I'd had enough. When push came to shove, that really was all there was to it; I'd had _enough_.

It would never stop, and I couldn't change what I was, so... there was only one way out, as far I could see. The school could do nothing, had done nothing virtually from the start, until it was too late; it had gone too far. It was unstoppable.

I was thin now, almost skeletal, twitchy and nervous. The bright laugh that had attracted friends like bees to flowers had changed to a sharp, high, brittle sound that disturbed people because it spoke of a mind under pressure that they could not comprehend. Those same friends had fled when the jeering had become physical, after the few that had stayed to help had ended up hospitalised.

Oh, I had been nonchalant at first, brushed off the insults as the work of a few intolerant halfwits, but they had just kept coming.

It was like when they hit me, I could take only so much, yet they kept coming. Over and over again, kick after kick, punch after punch. Comment after comment, carefully barbed to sink deep into my mind and lodge there like a splinter, burrowing ever deeper.

I was a nervous wreck. Wouldn't leave the house unless I was forced; wouldn't leave my _room_. I talked to myself, no, make that _argued_ with myself, loudly, and had only realised when Julia had pointed it out a few days ago.

I loved my sister, I really did, but her way of trying to make things better for me was to throw spiteful insults back at the bullies, which simply made it worse, and being too cheerful, too bossy, trying to, in her own way, "bully" me out of the state I was in. And, surprise, surprise, it didn't work.

Things could only get worse, I knew that.

No matter how bad things got, they could _always_ get worse. There was no longer an "up" for me, just varying levels of down; an inky, overwhelming depression, full of headaches and stomach-aches. Fevers and vomiting, tears and screams. Running into walls deliberately because I was too scared to cut and bring about more oppression.

What life was this?

One that I no longer wanted.

Who _would_ want a life where the only way to go was further into the dark?

Not me. Not anymore.

I wiped my tears away with a shaking hand, then, with a shuddering, choking sound, took out my father's gun from my schoolbag.

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A muted bang made several people turn around in the corridors and look at each other with a puzzled expression, but it was hours before someone came into the toilets, forced the door open, and found a thin, paper-white corpse lying in the midst of what had been a head.

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Can anyone tell angst is my forte?

I have fourteen out of these twenty chapters written _and_ have finished the first chapter of my new KaiMax fic ... I feel so productive!

On a sidetrack - what's with the new account layout?? (cries)

Review?

xIlbx


	7. Chapter 7

Next chapter's up! Thank you to **Beywriter**, **zekesbabe**, **.Hitachinx3**, (the rest of your pen-name deletes itself, sorry!) **Annika Preminyer**, **OnlyNotReally**, **Beeku** and **StZen** for your reviews!**

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**We are the couple who had the realtor hang up on us when she found out we wanted to rent a one-bedroom for two men.**

"Hello, is that Thompsons Housing Agency?"

"Yes, how may I help you?" asked a brisk woman.

The conversation progressed easily enough, until the final stage. "And if you could just tell me in whose name you are renting the flat?

"Tala Ivanov and Ozuma Shield." I heard the sound of clicking keys and answered the next few questions on auto-pilot. I knew there would be no immediate outcry - Tala was, after all, a female name. I gave her his credit card details, then, unconsciously bracing myself against the doorframe, gave her Tala's. There was a pause in the clicking of keys from the other end of the phone line.

"I'm sorry, there appears to be a mistake with Tala's details."

"You mean that he's a man?" I said tightly. Another pause. Longer, this time, with muffled whispering in the background.

"Could you please clarify this; you want to rent a one-bedroom flat for two males?"

"Yes."

"I'm sorry, we don't cater for your sort." The phone went dead.

I threw the phone on the floor and tried to fight the impulse to stamp on it. It wasn't at fault, after all. Looking up, I saw Tala in the doorway staring at me with a look of utter resignation on his face.

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This was a bit longer, but I deleted it by accident and hadn't saved a backup. I might come back and update it later on.

Review?

xIlbx?


	8. Chapter 8

Thank you to **Beywriter, Taco** (lol!), **Annika Preminyer, zekesbabe, OnlyNotReally, ray-tiger-cat, WhisperingNights, Beeku, StZen and Lamanth **for your reviews!

Sorry for the slightly late update - went to my grandparents yesterday then had to do homework when I got home, then our Internet died ... but it's here now!

**I am the person who never knows which bathroom I should use if I want to avoid getting the management called on me.**

Put like that, it almost sounds funny, doesn't it? Well, it's not. It's degrading and humiliating. I was nearly arrested once; a particular bastard put more faith in a women's accusation of spying on her than in my protestations that _I couldn't help it if I looked like both and neither!_

That's me. Both, and neither. The public know me as Oliver, the famous French, chef, artist, and beyblader. Most refuse to see me as Olivia, the women in every way that counts and a mind finally in the right body.

I was feminine in appearance and behaviour before I had the operations to physically change me (how else could I cope?) but I was still a male. That's how people who knew me before see me still; a feminine male. Someone who should use the men's facilities. And get leered at by the men? No, thank you.

I'm really getting quite fed up of having to _prove_ to every woman who knows me as Oliver that I'm Olivia, that I am exactly the same as they are - I just didn't start out with the correct genitals. Proving it to security guards isn't even a joke anymore.

I need to get away from France. Go somewhere where nobody knows what I was, so people can finally get to know Olivia as I am now and should always have been.

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I think I handled this ok. It's a tricky one.

Review? I love everyone, by the way, so many reviews! (hugs all round)

xIlbx

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	9. Chapter 9

Thank you very much to** Moonlight Memories, Lamanth, StZen, Annika Preminyer, OnlyNotReally, Misty Elizabeth, Beeku, GlompingDuo **and **Beywriter** for your reviews! (There are a couple I might actually reply to, since they raise good points)

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**I am the mother who is not allowed to even visit the children I bore, nursed, and raised. The court says I am an unfit mother because I now live with another woman.**

At least I can watch them on television. I've taped everything they've ever done – and oh, there's so much of it! I can't help but cry as I watch them, every time; they're so big, so brave. My wonderful boys.

Anna knows not to disturb me when I do this; dive back into the realms of obsession and sit there watching these videos for hours on end. She knows that, somewhere, in a part of my mind that I won't admit to having, I blame her for the loss of my children. I gained one love but lost two in the most painful way possible.

She's beautiful and understanding and loving, and has been for nearly sixteen years but I can never forget the boys – my boys - that society ripped away from me because of her, yes, and me, and our "unnatural" love.

Hiro and Tyson.

Maybe one day, I'll send them a card. Let them know Mum's still here. Still loves them. Always will.

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I'm pretty sure the manga states that Ty's mum died, but screw the manga, I don't read it and it was a lovely plot idea.

Apologies that these are so short, by the way. Chapter 10 is crappy, but 11 onwards are longer - and also my favourites. I still have 5 or 6 left to write, though, might ask you lot for ideas soon.

Review?


	10. Chapter 10

Have an early update, since I might not be able to post this tomorrow.

Thank you to **Purple-Kissed-Wishes, shadowphoenix101, Lamanth, Beywriter, OnlyNotReally, StZen, 13Lulu's, Ugawa, _'Taco'_, Misty Elizabeth** and** alanacrystal** for your reviews!

The odd thing about this fic is even though it has 96 reviews, it only has just over 1000 hits - that's the lowest ratio I have by far! More people need to read it, clearly, though the message is definitely understood by all you lovely reviewers.

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**I am the person who feels guilty because I think I could be a much better person if I did not have to always deal with society hating me.**

I mean, yeah, I'm not the best person in the world. I know I've been a right prick throughout my entire life practically – the name Johnny McGregor's more infamous than famous and don't I know it - but it doesn't help much when I can't hold hands with my partner without someone starting a fight.

Ok, I start the fights, but wouldn't you if you were insulted?

I wish that I could walk down the street with him without losing my temper. I wish people didn't think of gays in the way that they do; like we're second-class, unnatural, even disgusting. Maybe then I'd be more proud of the person that I am and maybe … other people would be more proud of me.

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Bleurgh. Loathe this one with a passion. Never mind, better ones coming now. :D

xIlbx


	11. Chapter 11

Thank you to **Purple-Kissed-Wishes, Moonlight Memories, OnlyNotReally, MistyElisabeth, Beeku, Taco, Annika Preminyer, Deal-wit-it, Lamanth, 13Lulu's** (sorry again!) and **Beywriter** for your reviews!

In case anyone's curious, the ratio for the last chapter was 11 reviews to 76 hits.

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**I am the man who stopped attending church, not because I don't believe, but because they closed their doors to my kind.**

"_Pater noster, qui es in caelis,  
sanctificetur Nomen tuum.  
__Adveniat regnum tuum.  
Fiat voluntas tua,  
sicut in caelo et in terra.  
__Panem nostrum quotidianum da nobis hodie,  
et dimitte nobis debita nostra  
sicut et nos dimittimus debitoribus nostris.  
Et ne nos inducas in tentationem,  
sed libera nos a malo."_

I opened my eyes and sighed softly. Somehow, it wasn't the same without Oliver sitting next to me, an arm around my back and stubbornly saying the Lord's Prayer in French. I smiled as a thought came to me – yes, with my upbringing it was considered wrong to use anything but Latin to address the Lord, but my upbringing had stopped mattering to me in other forms years ago. Why not break this one, last rule and hope someone else up there was listening?

Staring up at the blue sky, I hesitantly brought the French words to mind. The Lord would have to put up with hearing it again.

_Notre Père, qui es aux cieux,  
Que ton nom soit sanctifié,  
Que ton règne vienne,  
Que ta volonté soit faite sur la terre comme au ciel._

_Donne-nous aujourd'hui notre pain de ce jour.  
Pardonne-nous nos offences  
Comme nous pardonnons aussi à ceux qui nous ont offensés.  
Et ne nous soumets pas à la tentation,  
mais délivre-nous du mal,  
car c'est à toi qu'appartiennent le règne,  
la puissance et la gloire, aux siècles des siècles._

'Oliver, it's Enrique calling … you'll listen better than the other guy, anyway.'

It wasn't that I had stopped being a Catholic that day, when I had confessed to Father Moretti "what" I was and been effectively excommunicated from the church I had grown up attending, it was more that my perceptions had been changed. I put more faith into the parables that told of forgiveness above all else, and wished others would, too.

Even Oliver only humoured me. He believed that the Church (of every denomination) would forever close its doors against us, committed homosexuals. I expect he sees his fate as confirming his life-long mistrust in people and their religions. My aim is to find somewhere that will prove him wrong. There is someone, somewhere who will accept me for who I am, I know it. Maybe it's "just" God who will – but then, Oli had stopped believing in him too by the end.

I hope you're watching me, Oliver. I'm going to prove you wrong. I hope you're pleased – no, I hope you're not; it was always so much more fun then. _Je t'aime_, to use your silly language. _Ti amo,_ to use mine.

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I know, I know, most of the word-count here was taken up by prayers. XD I think this is quite sweet - what do you think?

xIlbx


	12. Chapter 12

A massive thank you to **Beywriter**, **13Lulu's**, **Taco**, **Lamanth**, **Moonlight Memories**, **Petalwhisker X Fireheart**, **Purple-Kissed-Wishes**, **OnlyNotReally,** **StZen** and **zekesbabe** for your reviews!**

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**We are ... the parents who buried our daughter long before her time.**

No parent should have to bury their child. I'm sure that's been said so many times before that it's lost all meaning for those who haven't experienced it, but it's a raw truth for my husband and I. A raw, gaping hole where our hearts used to be.

My little girl. My darling, darling Hilary.

I'm jolted from my painful thoughts by my husband jabbing me in the ribs and hissing, "There they are!"

Yes, there they are, the boys who Hilary sacrificed her life for. Arms just touching - close enough for comfort, far apart enough for decency. Hubby's bitter, hateful towards them - blames them. I don't; how could I? We've known Ray all his life. He was Hilary's friend from the age of four, always over our house "to practise his speaking", this bright, happy - _girlish, yes, very_ - little boy. So when he turned out to be gay, I wasn't surprised. Happy for him, when he found a boyfriend in Kai, almost as much as I was for my girl when she found her Tyson.

But I look at them; these two full-grown muscular boy-men and I can't help but wonder why Hilary felt the need to protect them. Surely ... it should have been the other way around? I know the attacker was a drunken, violent homophobe who was armed and gagging to, quote, "make the fags bleed", but couldn't they have dealt with it themselves?

Why did she have to come out of the library at that exact moment? Why did she always have to care? Why did Ray not tell her to get away, _run_?

I've heard recently that the boys found her murderer and beat him until his skull cracked.

"Why the _fuck _couldn't you have done that twenty-two nights ago?"

My fingers dig deeply into the cold earth at her gravestone and I don't realise I've shouted my thoughts aloud until hubby tightens his grip and shouts hoarsely at Kai and Ray,

"Get lost! Go on! You can't apologise now!"

Ray finds my eyes and I see his are swollen and bloodshot with purple bruised shadows much like my own, before Kai gives my husband a filthy look and walks away at speed. With a broken little smile that tugs at my heartstrings despite my confused feelings of blame, Ray turns away. I watch him chase his lover and they walk off, arm in arm.

The hole in my chest blazes with pain again.

Why do they live when Hilary can't?

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Oh sugar, only two more weeks until I actually have to write again ... ugh, got the hard ones left, too. (sobs theatrically) Writer's block ftw, hey?

Reviews?

xIlbx


	13. Chapter 13

Thank you to **Beywriter**, **alanacrystal**, **Lamanth**, **Taco**, **Moonlight Memories**, **OnlyNotReally, Petalwhisker X Fireheart, laopanda, FlamingIce94, 13Lulu's Purple-Kissed-Wishes, shadowphoenix and zekesbabe** for your reviews!

This (the longest one so far!) is for **Moonlight Memories**, who wanted yuri in the last chapter but didn't get it because I'm sneaky like that.**

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**I am the person who has to hide what this world needs most, love.**

Lying on my bed, completely engrossed in a tricky bit of coding, I didn't hear the doorbell ring or my mother call my name until she came barrelling upstairs and yelled for what was apparently the fourth time,

"Emily, come downstairs, now!"

"Coming!" I sighed, closing everything down and wondering what it was _this_ time. Was it meal time already? Was I in trouble for skipping out on yet another social evening to "play on my computer"?

Childishly I thumped down the stairs, each heavy footstep a pointless protest. Reaching the bottom I stared at my mother questioningly.

"If you're quite finished having your little strop," my mother said with glacial calm, "then Ming-Ming is waiting for you in the living room." A smile spread across my face despite my best efforts to look suitably bored, and she shook her ginger-and-grey head with a sigh. "If you like seeing her, why is the communication only ever one way?" Not waiting for an answer, she turned her back on me and walked back into the kitchen to supervise whatever meal was next on the agenda, still lamenting about my lack of friends and social skills in general.

Feeling like a scolded and misunderstood child despite my nineteen years, I walked into the living room with a sulky expression. It lightened into a smile as I saw Ming-Ming perched awkwardly on the edge of the cream sofa closest to the window, looking as out of place as an alley cat in a palace. She was wearing a calf-length, long-sleeved scarlet dress with black edging, slightly worn at the seat and knee level; the sort of attire that screamed "trying too hard!" It was silly; I was only wearing a baggy green T-shirt and jeans, for heaven's sake! A little tug of exasperated affection pulled at my chest.

She always tried too hard; forever painfully aware of the lifestyle gap that separated us.

She sprang to her feet as soon as she saw me, checking where she had sat anxiously for creases or mud or … goodness only knew what.

"You're so neurotic."

"I know, it's one of my many charms." She beamed at me.

"You have no charms," I teased. Her innocent smile grew a mocking curl.

"Is that so?"

My stomach flip-flopped and I held out a hand to her.

"Come on." As we passed the kitchen, I called to my mother,

"We're going upstairs to my room. Don't call me unless the house is on fire."

Ming-Ming grasped my hand a little tighter as we climbed the stairs.

"I've never understood why you do that," she whispered. "Isn't that just inviting her to be nosy?"

I laughed and shook my head.

"No, not at all. She expects me to say it – I know she'd never violate my privacy, especially when I'm actually being – my god - _sociable_."

I closed my bedroom door behind us and locked it with slightly fumbling hands.

"Someone's excited," Ming-Ming mocked, her face alight with the same anticipation that was coiling tightly in my stomach. I nodded in silent agreement, then reached for her. She came gladly and we hugged for a few seconds, bodies pressed together. Turning her face towards me, I kissed her gently on the lips. Only a peck. A tantalisation. Then another one … and another; her lips parted under mine and we were suddenly up a level, quivering with a hunger and eagerness that could so rarely be satisfied. Already breathing raggedly, I gasped out loud as Ming-Ming put her hand under my T-shirt and placed it flat against my side, her palm soft and seemingly burning hot.

Once a month we met, that was all we could manage with studying and Ming-Ming's mother's insatiable, obsessive curiosity about her daughter's every activity. My mother might be incredibly annoying, but at least she fully respected my right to privacy.

She never questioned why I had never brought a boyfriend home, or even mentioned any likely candidates. I was just "a late bloomer" in her world; future grandchildren and marriage were part of daily conversation - my reaction never noted. The idea of homosexuality horrified her, good old Anglo-Saxon Christian that she was with every fibre of her being.

That then, was my future, at least until I had finished university and was reliably employed (a sports science company had already expressed interest). To float, denied of a relationship outside of these furtive meetings. More than anything, I wanted to go out for dinner with Ming-Ming, hold her hand as we walked down the street – feel comfortable with who I was.

But no. Secrecy was the buzzword. My half life would continue with my mother merrily telling me to find a nice young man while I sat there and wished that the love of my life could be acknowledged.

* * *

I did write a rather more lime-y version of this, then thought I'd saved it when I hadn't. (bangs head on wall)

This only just fits the prompt, but never mind ...

Review?

xIlbx


	14. Chapter 14

A big thank you to **shadowphoenix101**, **Lamanth**, **Moonlight Memories**, **Purple-Kissed-Wishes**, **OnlyNotReally**, **Taco**, **alanacrystal**, **Petalwhisker** **X Fireheart** (your name is refusing to underline) and **Beywriter** for your reviews!

Hope you all had brilliant Christmases/other festive/religious celebrations! I know I did!

_I'm__ almost late! I must've assumed I'd done it this morning_.

* * *

**I am the father who has never hugged his son because I grew up afraid to show affection to other men.**

He came to me the other day, dragged by his infernal mother to my office and stood there like a wet dish rag while she raged at me that I wasn't taking even halfway decent care of him, how could I be, to let him get bullied like this?

I saw the bruises and the cuts and the look in his tired nine year-old eyes. _Get out_, I told his mother, _get out and let me talk to my son without your nonstop bitching_, and I held my tongue from saying worse because he was there and he had heard enough over the years.

"Gou," I said when the door was shut and he was sitting on my desk, swinging his feet against the polished wood.

"Yeah, Dad?"

Almost against my will, out the words came,

"What?"

He swallowed, dragged his sleeve across his nose, repeated himself,

"Yes, Father?"

What few facts there were, I got from him with ease. How he felt about it … no, that I wasn't so good at. That was the one area his mother was far better in than I, so when his voice clogged up and tears began to well, I opened the door again.

"I'll sort it, son, ok?" I put a hand on his shoulder. He moved his head so that his cheek rested against my knuckles. I twitched involuntarily, felt my heart rip as he quickly moved his head away.

"Thanks," he whispered as he walked over to his mother. She instantly enfolded him in a tight embrace.

I turned from the remnants of my family and shut the door on them, on that sight. Only a few moments later did I realise that one of my arms was wrapped around my torso as if I had a stomach-ache, providing a weak comfort against the knowledge of what I couldn't give my son.

* * *

It's another shortie, but I really like this one.

For those who don't know, that was Kai. Ask and I'll PM you the link to the pages in the manga that show you Gou, Makoto and R/Lin - Kai, Tyson and Ray&Mariah's children respectively

I'm now panicking - I don't have any more written! I have ideas but please(!) feel free to contribute your own, I'll give full credit if I use anything of them.

Opinions? Review?

xIlbx


	15. Chapter 15

Thank you to **Beywriter**, **Purple-Kissed-Wishes**, **Lamanth**, **Taco**, **Moonlight Memories**, **Petalwhisker X Fireheart** and **alanacrystal** for your reviews!

I'm posting this early because a) I've just written it after a week of having no ideas, YAY and b) I'm away for most of tomorrow.

Inspired by Celine Dion's 'This Time'.

* * *

**I am the domestic-violence survivor who has no support system to turn to because I am male.**

Another bruise. On my leg, this time. Oddly enough not her fault, this time. Just me falling down the stairs. She was chasing me, but still. My fault.

"Ray, you pathetic little know-it-all-arsehole, you're even more incompetent than I've always thought!" She appears in the doorway, an avenging angel, incandescent with fury. My crime? Her morning slice of toast is too brown.

"I'm sorry, Mariam," I duck my head. "Won't happen again."

"Of course it will," she snarls and throws the piece of toast at my head. It hits me full in the face – her accuracy is amazing – and slides slowly off. "You're too stupid to remember something for that length of time."

"Yes, Mariam."

----

The doorbell rings. She's not in; I don't need to answer it. I can just sit here and down a very old bottle of grape juice in the hope that it'll contain some sort of alcoholic element. The bell rings again. I sit tight, tugging my sleeves further down, right over my hands.

"Ray! It's me, Claude! Come to the door!" He's calling through the letterbox, stupid bastard. The bloody thing's sharp around the edges. Shaking my head, I stand up and make my way to the door after hiding the bottle back under the loose floorboard.

"What?"

Claude smiles at me – biggest smile I've ever seen from him. He's my next door neighbour, him and his boyfriend Miguel. Both are tall, strong men but I take pride in knowing that I'm stronger.

"Come with me!" he's saying eagerly. I look at him with a confused expression. "Miguel's out, so's Mariah, right? There's nothing stopping us!" All the enthusiasm drains from his face at my cold look. "Ray? Don't you want to get away?"

I think of my carefully hoarded bottle of almost-alcohol and laugh in his face.

"Where would we run to?" He has no answer. The light of hope has gone from his face, his voice that can only mumble half-words. I laugh again and push him hard. He stumbles back; his tatty T-shirt rides up his stomach and I see a colourful bruise surrounding a scabbing wound. "Pathetic fag," I whisper as I slam the door in his face.

* * *

I doubt this has managed what I wanted, because what I wanted was so strange and complicated that I confused myself.

But yes. Opinions?

xIlbx


	16. Chapter 16

A massive thank you to **Purple-Kissed-Wishes**, **Ray-Tiger-Cat**, **LovelySinner7**, **Taco**, **Moonlight Memories**, **zekesbabe**, **Beywriter**, **... **(it means that in British slang too, yes I did know :)), **Misty Elizabeth**, **StZen** and **Petalwhisker X Fireheart** for your reviews!

A week late, I'm afraid. And it's short, too, but I like it short. :P

--

_Edit; shit, I forgot the prompt! Thanks, zekesbabe and Purple-Kissed-Wishes! In my defence, I was only about a quarter awake._

* * *

**I am the domestic-violence survivor who found the support system grow suddenly cold and distant when they found out my abusive partner is also a woman.**

"Hello?"

"Hello, this is the Lamth Women's Refuge Centre, how can I help?"

"I need to … I don't know. Book a place or whatever you do."

"You need somewhere safe to stay?"

"Yes! Wasn't that what I just said?"

The women with the calm, professional voice let a moment's silence pass. The caller scowled, recognising the subtle reprimand, and pulled a stray pink hair off the cushion she was holding with her bad arm.

"Can I have your name, please?" There was a long silence.

"No." She expected an argument, but that was clearly a reply that the woman was used to because she went to the next question without so much as a question.

"Address?" She reeled it off, watching the front door nervously.

"Hurry," she whispered.

"Do you live with the troublemaker?"

"Yes, and she's going to be home soon! Hurry, please!"

"She?" Suddenly, the woman's voce was cold and sharp.

"Yes, 'she'. Is that a problem?"

"No, of course not." But the tone had changed, all helpfulness gone. "If you would come to our headquarters, number 25 on the high street, I'll see what we can do for you there. Is that all right?"

"Yes, fine," she said quickly; she could hear footsteps. "I'll be there tomorrow." She put the phone down.

---

"Were you talking to someone?" Mariah asked sweetly, chucking a heavy shopping bag on the sofa beside her.

"No, no-one helpful," Queen answered honestly, clutching her injured arm slightly closer to her. Mariah noticed the motion and her eyes narrowed.

* * *

So-o, who thought it was Mariah making the call? Anyway, really not happy with this one, but never mind. It's up and it's a way around writer's block so all is good. I should be back on schedule now.

Opinions?

xIlbx


	17. Chapter 17

A massive thank you to **Petalwhisker X Fireheart**, **Moonlight Memories**, **Suicidal Beyblader**, **Beywriter**, **zekesbabe**, **Purple-Kissed-Wishes**, **StZen**, **LovelySinner7** and **Taco** for your reviews!

* * *

**I am the home-economics teacher who always wanted to teach gym until someone told me that only lesbians do that.**

"Ok, class, has everyone got their ingredients?" A whisper of agreement came from the bored-looking twelve year-olds in front of me. I noticed that the same old group at the back were lacking in a plastic bag full of food. "Rini, Sara, Kisa and Hiro, are you paying attention? I suppose you just left your ingredients at home again?" They regarded me scornfully, my sarcasm flying harmlessly through their empty heads.

"Yes, miss," Rini replied with a rude sigh, flicking her pink hair.

"Fine. You can all go and sit in the corner and … do homework or something." I watched as the little group shuffled over to the table near the corner, giving each other victorious grins, and sighed. "Now then, for the rest of you, let's begin …"

An hour later, I closed the door behind the last plastic box-toting child and started the mammoth task of clearing up after them. Oh, how I hated the macaroni cheese lesson. How on earth did they manage to encrust it to _everything _in the room? Fifteen manic minutes into my half-hour lunch break, I finished the evil task. Just as I was settling down to my sandwiches, the door opened. I looked up, expecting to see a pupil nervously inquiring about a misplaced bag or coat and seeing instead my husband and fellow teacher, Kane.

"Sal, just thought I'd let you know that your free lesson's not free anymore."

I groaned and mimed bashing my head against the table.

"Why-y?" I whined. Kane grinned at me.

"You're covering for an absentee."

"Oh, no shit." I rolled my eyes; stating the obvious was one of his most annoying traits. "What subject?"

"PE."

I brought my head up from its comfy resting place on the table so quickly that my neck clicked. I mumbled "Ow!" and rubbed it, still staring at him.

"If you're having me on, you will _suffer_."

"Nope, not taking the mick, promise." He looked so pleased with himself that I decided there and then that he wasn't tricking me.

"I love you, you know that, don't you?"

"All the more when I do something for you, yes," he replied. I laughed and started packing up my lunch again.

"Epic," I giggled at last. He winced.

"Ugh, Sal, don't pick words up off the kids, it sounds awful."

"Your _face_ sounds awful."

"I'm walking away now."

I stuck my tongue out at his retreating back. "Hope it goes well," he called over his shoulder, smiling.

"So do I," I replied, blowing him a kiss. After all, it wasn't every day I got to live a childhood dream.

---

I'd wanted to do something sporty 'when I grew up' from my first few PE lessons. Various possibilities of playing netball, handball or badminton professionally had reared their heads over the years and I'd had a dabble in squash, but my parents' strict insistence that I continue my education stopped those ambitions before they had had a chance to really begin anywhere other than inside my dreamy head. I coached a few lower school teams in rounders and hockey as I progressed through the years, but that was it. A PE teacher had seemed like the perfect career choice - it meant a university degree, but it also meant that I effectively got to play sports for money.

Then I confided my plans for the future in two people; my boyfriend at the time, Kai and my best friend, Mathilda.

"A PE teacher?" Mathilda had said worriedly in her curious Polish accent. "Sure, Salima? You know, those women are always so ... unfeminine."

"Oh, don't be stereotypical, Maddy," I'd replied and dismissed it with only a faint pang that she didn't support me. Then, there was Kai. Everything Maddy had said, but more explicitly put - he'd always considered brutal honesty the best way to go as far as I was concerned.

"A PE teacher? Sal, that's a dyke's job. Even if you're not one, eveyone'll think you are."

I was impressionable then. I listened to them both, took their words as gospel and applied for a different teaching course instead. I didn't want to be called a lesbian, my goodness no.

Over the months that I'd been qualified, I'd looked out of the window at the lessons of hockey, rounders, tennis, and felt the little hole in my heart where I'd torn away the dream gape wider.

Now, I had my chance to see if I really had trained in the wrong profession. I'd taken two very conservative teens' words for it, after all - Mathilda was Roman Catholic and Kai was very, very rich. Of course today's kids didn't feel the same way.

---

Having rushed home to grab a makeshift PE 'kit' of purple T-shirt and black shorts, I felt quite the part as I opened the door to the changing room and yelled, "Girls! Out onto the field, we're playing rounders!" Cue groaning. I rolled my eyes and left them to it.

Ten minutes later, they straggled out onto the field in an untidy group, blinking in the strong summer sunlight and looking sullen. I was their _home economics _teacher. What was the point of even being outside? It wasn't like I could play or anything.

"Perk up!" I urged, dumping the buckets of bats and balls on the grass. "At least it's not below freezing any more!" A few people made murmurs of agreement. Good enough. "Right, then. You, you, you and you," I pointed out four particularly chatty girls, "go and sit over there." Looking startled, they got up and moved the few steps to right I'd indicated. "No, no, not like that!" I grumbled as they clumped together. "Look, Rini, you sit _there_ and Momo, you sit _there_ ... getting the picture?" They did indeed; the remaining two girls moved without a problem. They were now sitting about six paces apart from each other, looking at me.

"What'd you do that for, Miss?" demanded a voice from the rest of the crowd. In answer, I turned back to the line of four girls.

"One, Two, Three, Four. Got that?" Four nods; each now had a number. "Now then, you lot. I'm going to give you a number and the number you get is the number of the person you go to, ok?" A confused buzz rumbled throughout the group. Deciding that the best way to show them was by demonstrating, I began counting, shooing the girls into place as I went. "One, two, three, four, one, two, three, four ..."

Soon, I had four teams of equal numbers. We organised a system between me and the 'leaders' of the teams (the initial numbered girls) whereby the teams would rotate so that every team got a game of fielding and batting. One thing was missing, as Rini pointed out:

"Miss, who's bowling?"

"That," I said with a grin, "would be me."

Oh, their faces were a picture!

The games ended a little late; I knew how long it took girls to get changed so I was getting anxious as I yelled out who was helping with what.

"Team One, take the bats in! Two, the balls - yes, yes, very funny if your IQ's about six - Three, the bases and Four the poles! Get a move on or you'll be late!" I jogged after the equipment-toting, smiling girls and quickly passed them, turning to jokingly mock their speed. Rini (Team One, carrying three bats) narrowed her eyes at this challenge and sped up, her short legs covering the distance surprisingly well. I slowed my pace a little to let her jog with me.

"Better than cooking?" I asked cheerfully after a few paces.

"Yeah!" She looked firmly ahead as she talked between gasps. "We all think so."

"Thanks. It's been fun to do something different - you lot are much nicer with a bit of fresh air in you."

"Yeah, well." A faint blush intensified the pink of her wind-abraded cheeks. "'S good to have someone who's not a stupid rag muncher, anyway."

I nearly missed my footing, only narrowly avoiding falling.

"What?"

She blushed impressively this time, knowing that she shouldn't have said that.

"It's true!" she panted defensively. "All our PE teachers are lesbians! Everyone thinks so!"

"Even though Mrs Follett has two kids and a husband?"

"Really?"

"Yes."

"Ok. Still. They're all lesbians," she repeated with the unshakable confidence of the ignorant child.

---

"So, how'd it go?" Kane asked me. I waved my hands at him - I had my mouth full of chicken korma. "Oh, eat quicker already!"

"Mnph!" I swallowed too early and yelped in pain as the lump forced its way down my oesophagus. "It was all right. I had fun, they had fun, Rini no longer thinks I'm Satan's whore."

"Gotta be good," he said dryly. I nodded and immediately went back to my food.

Sooner or later, I'd tell him. Kai and Maddy had been right all along and I'd just been idealistic and stupid.

Dream finally over.

* * *

I'M BACK!

Can't promise another update this Saturday - depends whether we get another snow day! :D But yes, I'm determined to finish this. Only 3 chapters left!

Opinions?

Love you all,

Ilb


	18. Chapter 18

Thank you very much to **Purple-Kissed-Wishes**, **Beywriter**, **Faeries-Landing**, **zekesbabe**, **Taco**, **LovelySinner7** and **Moonlight Memories** for your reviews.

An update! Yay!

Only two chapters left now, but, being the silly spoon I am, I've left myself with the two hardest prompts! So I'll put them at the bottom and ask you lot for help.

Enjoy!

* * *

**I am the person who is afraid of telling his loving Christian parents he loves another male.  
**

"Kenny, dear, who was that on the phone last night?" Kenny flinched guiltily as his mother started to climb the stairs, her bulk making them creak.

"It wasn't the phone, mum, it was a video call!" he yelled back. _And I'm expecting another one any second now, for heaven's sake!_

"Oh. Well, who was it, anyway?"

"Tyson!" He noted with satisfaction that the mere mention of technology had halted her climb.

"Oh, lovely. Did you have a nice chat?"

"Yes, mum, thanks!" Go away, he pleaded with her, why pick now to show interest in my friends? The notion came to him that perhaps he had been particularly loud this time; there had been a lot of laughing going on after all. As his mother's heavy footsteps retreated down the stairs, he laughed bitterly. His mum had probably come up to marvel at her son being happy for once.

The deafening sound of the 'phone' ringing blasted into his eardrums and he scrabbled to answer it with a click of the mouse. Wow, he really needed better headphones. Nudging the microphone a little closer to his mouth, he waited impatiently for the camera to load up.

"Ha, I can see you!" A familiar, enthusiastic boy's voice crackled through the headphones. Kenny made a noise of surprise and waved in the direction of his camera.

"No fair, I can't see you!" he complained.

"Now that's a tragedy," the boy retorted, laughing. There was an especially loud crackling noise and mumbling along the lines of, "Work, you stupid piece of plastic!" then, "Any better now?"

Kenny squinted at the screen and grinned as the "Loading" message gave way to a crystal-clear picture of the boy that he spent more of his days talking to now than virtually anyone else in his life.

"Much better. Hi, Tyson."

"Hey, Kenny. Why'd you disappear so suddenly last night?" Tyson was lying on his bed, hair deliciously tousled, a funny expression of curiosity on his square face. He had a couple of new spots, Kenny noticed with slightly malicious glee, sprouting red and white from his jaw line, and was fully dressed. Unusual, Kenny pondered and self-consciously ran a hand down his threadbare pyjamas.

"Mum and Dad came home early," he apologised. Tyson sighed - Kenny tried not to wince at the rush of static that resulted.

"Just a _conversation_ isn't a bad thing, is it?" Tyson pleaded, reaching out of camera view for a moment and producing a pillow which he promptly put under his forearms for extra comfort. Now it was Kenny's turn to sigh - Tyson's expensive equipment meant that _he _didn't cringe away from painful static.

"No, but ..." He trailed off, waving his arms around aimlessly.

"But better safe than sorry," Tyson finished for him. He scowled and slumped forwards so that his chin was resting on the pillow and only just still in view. "It's so stupid! Just a conversation!"

"I know." Kenny slid down in his seat and stared miserably at Tyson. Tyson returned the unhappy look for a few seconds, then raised both eyebrows and proclaimed,

"Subject change necessary!"

Kenny laughed out loud.

"Ok, how's this - why're you still dressed at nearly midnight?"

"Oh, you want me to change?" With mischief written all over his face, Tyson moved back up onto his elbows and undid two, three buttons on his shirt in quick succession. Kenny made an incoherent noise and filled the camera view with his head, blocking it from any prying eyes even as an arrow of heat passed through his lower regions.

"No!" he blurted out, swallowing a sudden excess of saliva. Tyson rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, right," he muttered with more than a hint of frustration. He made no effort to redo the buttons. "Suppose it wouldn't be too good a thing for God-fearing mummy-and-daddykins to walk in on, hey?"

"No," Kenny repeated, his face bright red as he looked anywhere but at that tiny patch of bare skin. "It really, really wouldn't." There was a beat of not entirely comfortable silence.

"Are you _ever_ going to tell them?" Tyson asked with a groan.

"It's ok for you!" Kenny retorted hotly. "Your brother _and_ your uncle are gay, your dad'd be more surprised if you weren't!" Tyson blew a raspberry.

"Think he'd quite like a grandchild, to be honest, but," he shrugged ruefully, "what can you do?"

"Nothing."

"That sounded bitter." Tyson knocked gently on his microphone and Kenny twitched as static chewed at his ears. "It'll be ok, Kenny."

"Mm."

"Really. I'll _make_ it ok."

"How? By brainwashing the vicar so that he preaches the evils of heterosexuality?"

"Sounds like a plan!" Tyson said through splutters of laughter. "Seriously, though. You don't think they'd be really angry, do you?"

"I don't know. I can't ... imagine how they wouldn't be. It's too scary to even think about." Kenny shook his head firmly.

"Ok. Point taken, for now." Tyson's gaze went to somewhere to the left of the camera. "Anyway. It's getting late. See you in school!"

"See you." He blew Tyson a kiss; the bigger boy 'caught' it and patted where he estimated his heart was.

"Scaredy-cat," he said fondly. "Love ya, Kenny."

"And you," Kenny replied, ever-cautious of the unseen parent eavesdropper. Tyson sighed again and a hint of frustration returned to his face and voice.

"One day, I'll hear that replied to properly." The camera went blank and Kenny took the headphones off with a sinking feeling. Oh, he hated it when they ended on a sour note. Could he really blame him, though?

If only he was less of a coward.

* * *

I hope you found this as sweet as I did! XD TysonKenny's such an ignored ship!

Right, here are the remaining two prompts;

**I am the man who died when the paramedics stopped treating me as soon as they realized I was transsexual.**

**I am the prostitute working the streets because nobody will hire a transsexual woman.**

Both are making me very confused, so any ideas at all would be appreciated!

Opinions or advice?

xIlbx

* * *


	19. Chapter 19

Thank you very much to **Beywriter, Taco, zekesbabe, LovelySinner7, Purple-Kissed-Wishes, Moonlight Memories, shadowphoenix101, Lamanth, ****Petalwhisker X Fireheart**, **phene-serene**, my lovely flamer, **Hi Kitsune and Sesshi-chan** for your reviews!

An extra-big thank you with hugs to **zekesbabe** (You are AMAZING, zekes-mummy), **Beywriter** and **Moonlight Memories** for your very helpful ideas - also hugs for **Purple-Kissed-Wishes** and **LovelySinner7,** whose input was very much appreciated even though I'm not directly using it. Thank you very much everyone!

* * *

**I am the prostitute working the streets because nobody will hire a transsexual woman.**

I sat on a hard plastic chair, nerves tying knots in my stomach. Craning my neck, I tried to peek through the keyhole of the door opposite. The penultimate candidate (I was the last, dammit!) was being interviewed. It was taking _ages_. The job on offer was research assistant to esteemed sports scientist, Judy Tate - just six places were on offer but more than two thousand people had applied, with nearly fifty making the final cut to the interview stage. It was the first step on the ladder to my dream job of becoming a respected scientist just like Judy, and I was ... well, nervous didn't even cover it. Cruder words did, but I couldn't even think them for fear that I would still be in that frame of mind when I was eventually called in.

Finally, the door opened and a middle-aged man came out, looking pretty shell-shocked. The interviewer followed him out, smiled and bade him farewell, then turned to me with a carefully bland expression.

"Emily?"

"Yes, sir," I nodded and did my best to smile. He nodded his head in return but didn't smile. Dread crawled into my knotty stomach and settled down like a spider in its web. I knew what the problem was; this didn't bode well. Hiding my sudden foreboding, I stood up and followed him into the room.

However, as the interview progressed, it seemed that my fears had been off; it was all very professional, full of technical questions requiring detailed answers. The perfect chance for me to show off my 156 IQ - I breezed through the questioning. As he made his last note (his handwriting was appalling), I sat back in my chair, satisfied that the interview had gone as well as it could have.

But - oh shit! - he coughed awkwardly and pulled out from under his desk my original application form. Shit, shit, shit. Without meeting my eyes, he turned to the back page, the fold-out Equal Opportunities form. Fuck. Triple fuck.

"Upon checking your reference, Emily, we found ... something of a discrepancy," he began. I stared at his sweaty forehead (he wouldn't look me in the eye), determined that I would stay calm. The silence stretched. He wanted me to say something? Fuck that. I wasn't going to apologise. Browbeaten, he continued. "In your previous job, you were registered as ... as a male, called Emmet. But now, you're ... you've had a sex change?"

"Yes," I replied wearily. "Is that a problem?" He looked straight at me and smiled weakly.

"No, not at all." We stood; he shook my hand and told me he'd be in touch. I fought the urge to slam the door as I left because I knew he'd lied through his teeth.

--

I never got the job. Or any others. Every interview ended, or began, in a similar fashion.

--

I saw that interviewer again, getting out of his swanky car. Sat there huddled in my sleeping bag with everything aching and glared at him. He didn't as much as look, of course. I'm invisible to everyone bar those pavement-crawling perverts.

--

AIDS. That's what they told me four months ago. Now I'm dying in a doorway. Hm. Dying in a doorway. Sort of poetic, don't you think?

* * *

Ugh, I'm not too fond of this. Horrible, evil prompt. One left; I'll have it done by Saturday, promise.

So, so, sorry about the five-month random gap. Thank you so very much to everyone who's stuck with this despite my laziness.

xIlbx


	20. Chapter 20

Thank you to **Moonlight Memories**, **Petalwhisker X Fireheart**, **Purple-Kissed-Wishes**, **nightangel09**, **Beywriter**, and **Mrs. MonkeyD. Hitachiinx3**

A special thank you to **Moonlight Memories** and **Beywriter** for their help with this final chapter, and to **Purple-Kissed-Wishes** and **zekesbabe** for contributing ideas even though I didn't use all of them. Very much appreciated!

This is slightly late because I lost track of what day it was. (blushes)

Enjoy!

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There was a car. An unintentional somersault. A tangled landing. Blue lights.

Now, I'm like a helium balloon on a steadily eroding string. Sight and speech gone, hearing left.

"Quick! We're losing her!" After several frantic minutes, the paramedics have realised that I'm floating away. One orders the other to go and grab the defibrillator, just in case, and begins chest compressions. Thirty compressions, two breaths, thirty, two, thirty, two. The man pauses for a split second to calm himself and something occurs to him. Without so much as a by-your-leave, he moves one his hands higher up my chest, stopping where, in his mind, where there should be a pair of squashy breasts. Unyielding muscle meets his grip and he flinches and mumbles something I can't quite hear. In an even more invasive move, he shoves one hand between my legs. No fleshy female mound there; the pride and joy of a man lies limp under his fingers. "Fucking hell. Fucking _tranny_," he exclaims under his breath with a mixture of surprise and disgust.

The sound of footsteps. He tells his colleague, "It's no good, she's gone." The other paramedic accepts this, mentions they should get me to the hospital morgue for mass cremation. He agrees. Kicks me in the chest and mutters "Burn like the freak you are," under the cover of lifting me.

That kick jolted me free at last and now my senses have returned as my spirit leaps free of its tiresome boundaries. I can see my body in the ambulance, covered in an intricately patterned spray of blood and waste. Beside it, the out-of-date driver's license proclaiming me as the female Rei Kon that 'tricked' the paramedics into attending to me.

Being my real self is a crime? The male Ray Kon is so much worse than the female shell I was trapped in for most of my life? I ponder this from my aerial view as the evidence of my abnormality is driven away to burn in white-hot flames.

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I know it's short - it just seemed to work.

So, we're done! I'd like to say a massive, MASSIVE thank you to everyone who's reviewed - I could give special thanks but there are so many people who deserve one that this AN would go on forever! Everybody who reviewed the last chapter or will review this one is deserving of said thanks, as you've come back to this after the long break. I'm over the moon to have finally finished this and I hope you've all enjoyed the ride!

Two notes before I leave; if you could vote on the poll on my profile page, that would be nice, and if you wants to see the same prompts with a different fandom, **Ino and Temari** have begun a Naruto version. It's longer than mine, which has got to be a good thing. xD If you want to expand on any of my oneshots, do the same in this fandom or branch out like they have done, please send me the link so I can have a look!

Again, thank you ever so much and I hope you all have a brilliant summer.

xIlbx


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